Hello and thank you for reading today's blog entry.  I decided to give a little rawness to what I am going to share today.  This will lack the overthought I tend to have when I write, so there will be some tangents that may or may not make sense.  I only hope that when you read what I am sharing, that you understand that I am trying to be as clear as I can in the jumbled ramblings I am setting free from my jumbled thinking lately.

I really have no clue where to start because I really have a broken feeling washing over me.  Broken from opinion and speculation.  Heck, it also comes from expectations that I feel the weight of pressing down on me to be this centered, happy being that society places before us.  That nothing could possibly be wrong and that the life of perfection is just as common as breathing.  No longer is the saying that you cannot please everyone all the time happening here, because you are the magical and mystical being that can achieve such a lofty goal, all the while, never losing the truth of who you are.  People ask me all the time how I am doing and all I can muster is that I am doing well.  I am asked how my family is and I offer the same, non-descript reply of "doing well". Then, the questions of "what's new", "anything exciting happening in your life", and the ever panful question of "got any plans for (insert day, weekend, month, year and so on).  All the while, I am contemplating of telling my personal truth, but already knowing that this small talk really is not about my truth, but is just small talk to fill in the void of silence I have been offering lately.  Really, who cares about my personal struggles?

In light of my restraint from telling my truth, I have become an observer of my feeling of worth crumble into dust.  I do not have a jet setting lifestyle where I get to travel.  My anxiety has me tethered to staying in the same, small bubble that I have managed to create.. I want to live, but I am really afraid of dying.  My enabling ways has me trained to cater to people that refuse to muster up the appreciation to even offer something similar to benefit helping me.  Simply put, I am not allowed to ask for help, but expected to do everything on my own.  I am told that I talk too much, but when I am quiet and reserved, I am told that I lack communication skills.  I get mad wrong and I am too emotional when I take a moment to let a few tears fall down my cheek.  I want to connect with people, but I don't know how anymore.  I am just so jealous of those people that seem to get everything right....  Those fortunate many that have their life figured out and are successful at it.

I have been told that bullies are people that are jealous of what you have, but when you are convinced you have nothing...  What are they jealous of?  What am I not seeing that they see?  I have also been told that a person who is mean to you is just directing their pain upon you in order to feel better about themselves.  So, how is it that I am not a mean person if I am the one taking the slings and arrows of cruel intentions?  Shouldn't I be allowed to lash out in anger or frustration?  I know that when I have tried, I have been told to "grow up"  Maybe that is why the occasional tear falls down my cheek.  It is some kind of pressure valve that lets a little of the pain loose so I don't totally fall apart.  But it is the shame that I am so damn broken that gets me to detach.  Detach from family, friends, work....

Maybe my punishment is from a higher source.  Some sort of Karmic slap that just keeps on giving.  Maybe my suffering is the buffer for others to do better, so farther, and get more.  Maybe I am punishing myself because I am so accustomed to being hurt.  If I thought far enough back, I was the youngest of four.  An eight year gap between my brother and I and an even longer gap between my sisters and I.  I always felt like the unwanted sibling, the little swat to get away or get out really hurt back then.  Even now, I feel less than equal, but at least we have a slightly stronger connection than we have had in the past.  Sadly, it took the loss of both our parents for that to happen.  Marriage is never easy, but I keep trying to make it work.  I gave up so much to give more and to this day.... I am not giving up enough and not giving enough in the same breath.  Even with my job, I am missing that sweet spot that would make me successful.  My availability is wrong and while my work is on point, my value is underappreciated. 

I wonder if my destiny is to be a broken self.  Never truly successful, but capable enough to get by....  happy enough to have less, yet sad enough to be humble and angry enough to keep fighting to stay above ground.  All I can say is that I am damn tired of faking it until I make it because I just don't see ever making it... whatever "it" is.  I would like to just get this damn "kick me" sign off my back  That would be a nice start, but with years of "conditioning" that I don't deserve better... or more... or even less... I am not counting on that happening any time soon.

Yes, this is a pity party of one here.  All those "boxes" that I kept my memories in have opened and released all those broken pieces (experiences) that I would rather forget about have tumbled out.  The memories of being picked on, bullied, and shut out... the memories of all the mean slings and arrows in the form of words and looks of disgust and distain in my direction flickering back to life on the big screen in my head.  The countless times being told I am wrong to share, wrong to speak, wrong to feel, and the broken record repeat of, "grow up" echoing in my mind.  Being told that I am a selfish and self-centered human being as I recall all the times I went out of my way to be helpful.  I am recalling every moment that I was told that I could never be enough, never good enough, never pretty enough and never thin enough.  I was not the popular kid in school, I was not the cool kid either.  I was that kid that got chased home from school, taunted, teased, called names and rejected.  The few friends I managed to have, I swear felt pity for me. I tried so hard to make friends.  I hid my insecurities behind a smile and wrote poetry about the pain I felt from rejection.  In all honesty, I did manage to find some really good friends along the way, but life marches on and changes happen.  But to have a childhood that was seen as difficult then, remaining painful now just.....

Yep, cannot find the right words to finish that statement.  Not sure if it is all the other memories rearing up to take center stage, but all I can think is that I am a broken person.... I am a broken person.... I am a broken person.  I am not looking for sympathy at my pitiful state of mind.  I have decided to accept that I am broken.  That the tape and glue that holds me together is showing its wear.  That no matter what I do, I will never be perfect.  And while I am broken, I have the power to forgive those that broke me, but I sadly can never forget.